


Closer

by Lady_Layla



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Frank finally follows her, Frank isn't the Punisher, Karen is still a reporter, who moved to NY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-04 22:32:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12781017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Layla/pseuds/Lady_Layla
Summary: Based in part on the song "Closer" by The Chainsmokers.  An AU where Frank is just a retired Marine and Karen is a journalist in New York.





	Closer

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-post of one of the Chapters in the New York Bulletin series. I've decided anything over a certain length will be posted as a stand alone instead of in that series.

Four years.

Four years and no call.

It’s been four years since Frank’s seen Karen Page and for whatever reason he always expected her to call. Despite the fact that she said she wouldn’t.

She packed up and moved to New York in her dad’s beat up car and that had been the end of it.

Until now.

Now she’s looking pretty in a hotel bar.

Her head is tilted back as she laughs and Frank’s pretty sure he’s never seen anything as amazing.

She’s surrounded by men in tuxes, not that Frank’s surprised. Men always flocked to Karen like a moth to a flame.

He heads to the corner of the bar across from her to decide what to do.

Being back on the inside of a bar isn’t as hard as he thought it would be, not when he’s focused on Karen and only drinking ginger ale.

His thoughts slowly drift back to the last time he saw her...

 

_Frank hears a grunt near his ear and blinks one eye open. It’s Karen and she’s trying to move him...or at least he thinks she is. He can’t really feel his legs and he wonders briefly what stupid shit he got talked into trying this time._

“ _Damnit Castle.”_

“ _Mmm?”_

“ _You’re fucking heavy.”_

“ _Go ‘way, Page.”_

“ _Can’t do that Frank. You remember what happened last month? Sheriff said if he caught you passed out on someone’s porch again he’d press charges and let you rot in the city prison instead of this comfy one we have down here.”_

_He huffs out a laugh._

“ _Alright giggles, I’ve got you. On three try to stand up.”_

_She counts down and on three he makes the effort. Apparently it works but it’s slow going to her car because he really can’t feel shit below the knees and he keeps checking to make sure they haven’t been blown off._

_He’s mentally reminding himself that he’s not overseas anymore when Karen dumps him in the backseat of her dad’s car and climbs up front._

“ _Why don’t you have your own car, Page?”_

“ _It’s not like my parents need two right now. Saves money.”_

_He grunts and falls silent as she makes her way to his shitty apartment on the outskirts of Fagan Corners._

_After she helps get him settled she heads out to work, promising to check in on him later._

 

Frank blinks the memory away as she laughs again. That hadn’t technically been the last time he’d seen her.

She had of course come by later as promised but he was so blitzed he doesn’t remember anything except waking up the next morning to a good bye text.

His eyes track her as she removes some guy’s hand from her shoulder, stands up with her little bag, and heads towards the bathroom.

For a minute he’s stunned by her outfit. Little Karen Page...all dressed up and shit.

Then, he’s up, throwing a twenty on the bar, and following her.

Much to his surprise, she skips the ladies room entirely and after glancing around slips out the side door.

Shit just got interesting.

He follows her for a couple of blocks before she disappears around a corner and he doesn’t see her anywhere.

There’s an alley a few more feet in front of him and he’s sure that’s where she slipped off too.

As soon as he steps into the shadows there’s a fucking gun pointed at his face and he goes for a weapon he no longer has. He’s about to move on to disarming when the gun drops suddenly, all in the space of a few seconds.

Karen’s pissed off face is what was hiding behind the gun and he gulps for a second.

“Frank Motherfucking Castle.”

“That’s my name.”

“You sonuvabitch. I almost shot you.”

There’s a million things he wants to say to that. Things like: why the hell do you have a gun? Where’d you get it? Can you actually shoot it?

What comes out of his mouth is, “Why didn’t you?”

“Because you weren’t going to hurt me, you dumbass.”

She tucks the gun back into her little purse, a clutch he thinks they’re called, and heads back out of the alley.

“Wait, there are people trying to hurt you?”

He jogs to catch up with her and they walk a few more blocks in silence.

Frank’s not really sure if he’s even welcome, but she hasn’t told him to go and doesn’t as he follows her to the third floor of a walk-up and into what he assumes is her apartment.

It’s almost the same size as his old place back in Vermont, but it has walls instead of being an open studio.

“So, what’s this I hear about people trying to hurt you?”

“I’m the one who said that!” She calls from the bedroom as he pokes around her tiny kitchen looking for the stuff to make coffee.

“Yeah well, are you going to explain it?”

“Are you going to tell me why you’re here?”

Her voice coming from so close makes him turn around and he freezes in place. He’s pretty sure his blood might be ice...or maybe it’s fire.

Karen’s standing there glaring at him, hands on her hips, wearing a worn old black shirt with a skull logo on it. She’s practically swimming in it and he can’t tell if she’s even wearing shorts.

Normally, that would be his focus...except the shirt. That’s his damn shirt.

“Well?"

Frank jerks his gaze back up to her face.

“Oh...uh. I was looking for you.”

Her arms cross, pulling the hem of the shirt up even higher on her thighs distracting him again.

“What?”

He turns back around and finishes setting her pot to brew.

“You gone deaf on me, Page?”

“Maybe. I _was_ in a shipping container when a few guns went off inside it.”

Now his blood is running cold.

“What the fuck, Karen?”

She’s so nonchalant about the whole thing, digging into her fridge for food that she stuffs into the microwave.

“I guess you haven’t been keeping tabs on me.”

“Should I have?”

Karen just shrugs, pulls open a drawer, and slides him a folder.

Frank opens it and scans the newspaper articles inside.

They’re all big time, huge news stories, shit he’s heard about on the national news.

But it’s the name under the byline that catches his eyes: Karen Castle.

Fuck.

By the time he’s read all the stories his jaw is threatening to just camp out on the floor and she’s sitting on her couch drinking coffee and eating leftovers.

“God damnit, Page.”

He settles in next to her.

“What?”

“When did you become so damn reckless?”

“I guess spending so much time with you rubbed off. Besides, I’m careful. My friend Trish helped me set up a dummy bank account that my check goes into and then over to a Swiss bank account. Plus according to my ID I’m just a lowly intern, Cassandra Troy.

He blinks at her.

“Did you ever consider doing something that might not get you killed?”

“No.”

He’s opening his mouth to protest when she shoves a pair of chopsticks laden with noodles of some kind into it and he almost chokes.

“Shut up, Frank. I’ve been doing this for three years. I can handle myself.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

He’s stolen the food container from her and doesn’t notice her tense up at his words.

She turns on the TV and they sit in silence for a while, Karen using him as a personal body pillow, just like old times.

At some point she grabs a bottle of liquor and after taking a pull she offers it to him.

“I’m good.”

He’s a little hurt at the surprised look on her face.

“I quit. Four years sober.”

Karen studies him for a minute, nods, and turns back to the TV.

He thought she’d say something, congratulate him but Karen almost never opens her mouth unless she’s thought about what’s going to come out of it.

It another hour before he’s managed to pull together enough courage to ask what he’s wanted to ask since the day after she packed her shit up and hit the road.

“Why’d you leave?”

Karen snorts and shoots him a look.

“Ha ha. You’re still so hilarious, Frank.”

After another few minutes pass in silence before Karen turns back to face him and pulls the bottle away from her mouth.

“You’re serious?”

“Of course I’m fuckin’ serious.”

She looks stunned and Frank feels more confused than ever.

Was he supposed to have known all along why she left?

Had she left him a note or something?

“Frank,” she starts hesitantly. “You remember the day before I left right?”

“Yeah. You dragged my ass home from someone’s porch...again.”

“Right.”

He looks at her expectantly.

“And after?”

“After?”

“Yeah I said I was going to come by after work.”

“I remember that but I woke up in the afternoon and kept drinking. I don’t remember if you ever came back or not.”

“Fuck.”

Karen stands abruptly and starts to pace around her living room, tugging at her hair a little bit.

Frank wonders idly what it would feel like to have her pull his hair before she curses again and his attention is pulled back.

“You’re starting to make me nervous here, Page.”

Karen jerks a little, almost like she’d forgotten he was even there, and turns wide eyes on him.

“Did I threaten to call Maria again or something? Look, we talked again after I stopped drinking. There’s not going to be a future there, but if I make it six years sober she said she’d let me have supervised visits with the kids.”

“Fucking Christ. You honestly don’t remember do you?”

“Damnit, Page. That’s what I’m tryin ta tell you. I’ve been wondering for four damn years why you just left.”

She sighs and finally sits back down on the couch.

It takes almost ten minutes, with many false starts of Karen opening her mouth to speak and closing it again.

“You’re going to give me a damn ulcer.”

Karen smiles faintly.

“Frank...Frank, you told me you were in love with me. That you and Maria were never going to work out and I kept you sane. You said you loved me because I didn’t want to “fix” you, I just wanted to help you.”

Oh.

Well fuck.

Frank strains for a minute but he can’t remember anything about what she’s saying.

“So, I confess my love and you’re so repulsed you move to another state?”

She barks out a laugh.

“No. Jesus no, Frank. I wasn’t repulsed. I was fucking scared and I ran away so I wouldn’t have to face you. Fuck, you were so sincere and earnest I had no idea you were drunk.”

“You ran away from me?”

She rises quickly to pace again “Yes. I wasn’t ready to be in love with you. I mean you remember Matt, we’d just broken up and I wasn’t ready for anything new. I just wanted to figure my own shit out first.”

He watches her pace and thinks about it. Does he really love Karen Page? Yes. He’s been in love with her for longer than he’d care to admit and he’s still in love with her.

Well that was easy to settle so now he’s got one thing to do. He follows her up from the couch and corners her as she starts to turn. There’s no hesitation on his part as he surges forward to capture her lips with his.

In his mind this has been a long time coming and he almost sighs in relief as Karen wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him back.

But, just as suddenly as it started, it stops and she pulls back to look at him.

“How’d you find me?”

Oh. Well shit.

He must look guilty as hell, because she pulls back from him and crosses her arms. He can’t help that his eyes drift down, but they bypass her tits and wander further down to her legs coming out of his shirt.

“Frank!” Karen snaps a finger in front of his face to get his attention again.

“Frank, if we’re going to do...whatever the hell this is,” she motions between them. “We need to be honest.”

“You gunna tell me when you got a gun?”

“Yes.”

“Going to tell me why you need one?”

“Yes.”

“Are you--”

“Damnit Frank, we’re not getting any younger here. Tell me or get the hell out.”

He jerks a hand through his hair and hesitates for a minute or two more.

“I got a friend.”

She snorts, but throws up her hands when he glares at her.

“You’ve learned to be a member of society again...go on.”

“Anyway, my sponsor used to be in AA with this guy, said we’re a lot alike and I decided to get in touch. His name’s David but everyone calls him Micro. He’s good with computers and shit. I’ve been thinking about making this trip for a while. He helped me find you.”

“And he didn’t bother telling you about my writing.”

“I guess not. That sonuvabitch.”

He pauses then speaks again.

“So, you going to tell me about you? Like why the hell you’ve been keeping my favorite shirt hostage the last four years?”

Karen looks down at the shirt smirking.

“Or maybe why you need a gun?”

“Mmmm...maybe later.”

“Later what the hell do you—“

He shuts up when she tugs his hand and heads towards the bedroom, taking his shirt off as she goes.

Shit.

Guess she wasn’t wearing any shorts underneath it after all.


End file.
